


Restraint

by MamaMystique



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, lap dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 21:38:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2084082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaMystique/pseuds/MamaMystique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“An exercise in restraint,” Bedelia had called it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restraint

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the Tumblr prompt "6 (giving a lap dance) for Hannidelia"

This was torture.

It took everything within Hannibal to keep his hands firmly locked on the arms of the wide, cushioned chair.

“An exercise in restraint,” Bedelia had called it. Truly it was more an exercise in sheer will. He should not have taken her bait, should not have fallen so easily into her lure: but a clever smile and a promising glint in her eyes had earned him his current discomfort.

It had been a year now that they had spent together in Italy. Hannibal realized just how desperately he had missed her, and their already innate tension and attraction nearly burst in the confines of each other’s now constant company. He had always wondered what her skin would feel like under his lips, his teeth, but he had never dared to cross their professional boundaries. Not until she had backed him up against a wall and stood on the very edge of her heels to kiss him.

“There,” she had said simply. “Now that’s out of the way.” Bedelia took the first step, and he swept her up as he pushed them both ahead.

So how could he deny her the truth? How, when she had asked him so sweetly, with such interest, and he had every desire to prove to her how she made him feel?

“Did you ever fantasize about me while I was your psychiatrist?”

Hannibal had nearly been at a loss for words.

“Did you ever,” she whispered in his ear, rolling herself atop him and snaking her hand down his chest to his abdomen, “want to act on that tension?”

Her delicate hand came to teasingly stroke his inner thigh, and he hissed.

“The truth, Hannibal. I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Hannibal pressed his face into her shoulder, trying not to roll his hips. “You were my psychiatrist. My colleague. I did not want to destroy the walls I had built.”

Bedelia hummed softly. “That’s what made it exciting to you too, isn’t it? That I was supposed to be untouchable within your mind. Hmmm,” she said, closing her eyes and leaving the barest of touches on his cock, laughing as she felt it harden under her fingers before pulling away. “Such rules you make for yourself. Was I forbidden, Hannibal? Forbidden to your reason and rational, and yet wanted by that which you have tried to lock away and restrain?”

She was cruel, and he adored her. “You already know the answer, Bedelia.”

“I do. You talk in your sleep sometimes.”

Untouchable.

He had not thought of her in such a way in months, but now that he had foolishly giftwrapped and delivered power into her hands, she wasn’t going to ignore it. She never would. That’s what made her who she was.

It was quite amazing, how she recreated the space they had shared for years in the span of the single afternoon he had left her. The chairs, though different, were the exact distance apart they had always been. The coffee table just so. And the couch.

“Bedelia?”

“Hannibal,” she greeted him, dressed in a pencil skirt and blazer, something she hadn’t worn since leaving America. “Please, sit.”

In stunned silence he obeyed, trying to understand what she was doing. “Bedelia, I-”

“Are we on a first name basis now? I don’t think that’s quite appropriate in a professional setting.”

She was mocking him. But it made everything so clear. “Dr. Du Maurier,” he corrected.

“That’s better. Now, Hannibal,” she said as she sat across from him, crossing her legs, “I’ve become aware of a pattern of yours.”

He was silent for a moment. “And what pattern might that be?”

“Your restraint. Specifically in regards to yourself. You have such control, don’t you? Control over yourself, over those who surround you. What does that restraint get you?”

Hannibal thought. “Power.”

“No,” she retorted, cruelly. “No, that is what you think you get, but in truth it is the opposite.”

“My restraint is powerful, and thus earns me power.”

Her eyebrow quirked. “How powerful do you believe it to be?”

Hannibal breathed deeply as silence filled the room. He did not answer. He couldn’t.

“How powerful?” She repeated, standing.

“Powerful enough.” The words just barely escaped his lips.

A smug look crept onto her features, and with a fluid motion that blazer slipped from her shoulders. “Then we will make an exercise of it.”

Bedelia strode towards him on confidently placed heels, running her hands on her hips.

“This is not-”

“Professional?” She offered. “That is the point. I want to see what kind of power your control earns you, Hannibal, and to do so, I am going to take it away.”

“Are you so sure?”

Clever fingers un-tucked her own blouse and unbuttoned it. She never answered. “If you touch me, this will end.”

Hannibal’s hands were now gouged into the plush arms of the chair, trying to keep himself still. Bedelia’s skirt lay forgotten on the floor.

Her back was to him but he could just feel that self-satisfied smirk on her face. She knew her effect on him greatly, especially now.

Her arms were flung and grasping either side of the back of the chair as she arched her back and drew herself against him, slowly, feeling him involuntarily quiver. Blonde hair spilled over her shoulder as she turned to look at him, hooded eyes and parted lips doing nothing to help Hannibal stay put.

“Are you enjoying your restraint? Is it,” she purred, never breaking eye contact as she grinded lightly against him, “earning you power?”

“Neither of us are earning anything,” he hissed.

“Is that so?” She replied suddenly, standing and turning to face him. “I care to disagree. You can’t touch me,” her voice dropped low. “But I can.”

Before Hannibal could look away, she had straddled him and had his head held between her hands.

“Bedelia,” he warned, but it did not stop her from running her right hand down her stomach to where her hips gyrated against him. It was the moan that broke him, the beautiful sound she released as her fingers sought their prize, rolling her clit.

The fabric ripped from the chair as he balled his hands into fists, taking in the sight of her dressed in her underwear, leaning back and shamelessly rolling into her own touch; and in to him. “Restraint, darling,” she laughed.

That was enough.

It took barely a second for him to launch into her, toppling them both to the floor and pinning her to the carpet. Bedelia gasped as he pushed against her, holding her tight to him and snarling in her ear.

“You see-” she moaned again as his hand sought to replace hers, “your restraint is not unbreakable, Hannibal. You can falter, you can-” another gasp was torn from her lips as one of his fingers slipped inside her, “you can – be – broken.”

“As you have always known, my love,” he said before he kissed her, “as you will always be able to.”

Bedelia hummed as she wrapped her legs around him, nodding as she accepted another kiss from him.


End file.
